


So Sick

by lefty19



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, One Direction Tours, One Shot, Sick Harry, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:03:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lefty19/pseuds/lefty19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles had the habit of overworking and pushing himself to the breaking point. Between concerts, interviews, meet and greets, insane workouts, and little to no sleep, it's no wonder his immune system suffers. He also has the habit of not listening to his body or telling anybody when he's feeling crummy.</p>
<p>People counted on him. Fans counted on him, the boys counted on him, he couldn't just take a SICK day. No, being ill wasn't an option. It wasn't an option, and he wouldn't have it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Sick

Harry Styles had the habit of overworking and pushing himself to the breaking point. Between concerts, interviews, meet and greets, insane workouts, and little to no sleep, it's no wonder his immune system suffers. He also has the habit of not listening to his body or telling anybody when he's feeling crummy.

People counted on him. Fans counted on him, the boys counted on him, he couldn't just take a SICK day. No, being ill wasn't an option. It wasn't an option, and he wouldn't have it.

Besides, it was just a headache, and a slight sore throat. Nothing major. Nothing worth telling anybody and worrying them. Nothing worth slowing down his schedule. He was fine, it was just mind over matter.

Nevertheless, he was absolutely exhausted, but he still had to drag himself out of bed at four thirty in the morning.

"I'm so tired." Niall complained.  
Funny, coming from the guy who got to bed at a decent hour  
"We're all tired." Louis mumbled groggily, chewing on a piece of toast absentmindedly, his cheek resting in his hand.  
"Do we have to go?" Zayn asked, resting his head in his folded arm.  
"Unfortunately." Harry sighed, struggling to keep his eyes open. Maybe going to bed at two thirty was a mistake. Their schedule demanded that they be alert and awake, and two hours of sleep wouldn't cut it. It was becoming a thing, though. For the past week, they'd be up at four thirty for either an interview, or photo shoot of some sort. They'd have that all day, then they'd come back and get ready for their sound check. By that time, they'd already been up for twelve hours.  
Concert at seven, they wouldn't get out of the arena until eleven at the earliest, and they'd come back to the hotel. Liam, Niall, Zayn and Louis were pretty much knocked out at that point, and Harry would be leaning against the window of the car, struggling to stay awake. Eventually, he'd give in and succumb to sleep for the fifteen minute ride back to the hotel. Once the car stopped though, he'd be up. Once he was in his room, he'd change into workout clothes and go to the gym for three and a half hours. By that point, he was so tired, he'd barely make it back to the hotel room without falling asleep. Once he had forgotten his key card, and not wanting to wake up any of the boys, he slept out in the hallway. Paul chewed him out for that.

The guys had noticed the bags under his eyes, and the sheer exhaustion on his face, but every time they brought it up, Harry would snap something moodily, so they eventually stopped bringing it up.

Louis, being Harry's absolute best friend, was growing increasingly worried. He knew Harry wasn't getting the amount of sleep he needed to function healthily, and was going through far too many cups of coffee.

"Harry?" Louis asked him quietly.  
"Hmm?" Harry mumbled, looking at him bleary-eyed.  
"What time did you sleep last night?"  
"You mean this morning? Two thirty."  
“Two thirty? Are you crazy? Harry, you can't function on two hours of sleep."  
"Obviously, I can." He snapped.  
"Harry, you need sleep. You're going to make yourself so ill, you won't be able to do anything." He chastised.

That was what he was worried about. Harry coming down with some sort of illness he'd ignore until he collapsed and wound up in the hospital.

"I'm not going to get ill." Harry scoffed.  
Louis raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure. You're looking pretty pale."  
"I'm fine."

Even if he felt fine (although, who would on two hours of sleep?) Harry could pass off as being ill. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was void of all color. His eyes were dull, although that could be fixed with a few cups of coffee. He just didn't look like he was feeling all that terrific.

He wasn't though, the sore throat, although minor, was coupled with a pounding headache and absolute exhaustion, which left Harry feeling like crap.

"Ready to go, boys?" Paul asked, walking into their suite.  
"I guess." Niall groaned tiredly.  
"Tired are we?" Paul chuckled.  
"Yes." Zayn mumbled, not moving from his spot at the table.  
Harry bit back a yawn. Maybe he'd skip the gym today, and get to sleep somewhat early. No, he thought. That wasn't an option. He had been feeling insecure about his appearance. Maybe it was the damn butterfly tattoo that he needed to get around to removing, but whatever it was, he couldn't afford to skip the gym and get fat.

*

By the concert later that evening, he felt one hundred percent worse than he ever had in his life. His sore throat had escalated from being slightly annoying, to feeling like he had swallowed hot coals. And he was exhausted. Much more so than he'd been in the past week, and the urge to lie down on the stage and nap was overwhelming. His nose had started to clog up, making him sniffle every few moments, and he'd sneezed quite a few times over the course of the concert. His head was also killing him, the deafening screams and bright flashes definitely weren't helping. The sounds and lights made him nauseas, and he had to turn away a few times to keep from vomiting. He thought he was being subtle, but he wasn't. To the fans, maybe. To them, he seemed fine, maybe a bit tired, but that was expected. The guys, however, had picked up on his sluggishness, and they hadn't missed when he sneezed, or was trying to push past the nausea.

The concert finally ended, and the guys all walked off stage happily, while Harry trudged behind them tiredly.

"You need sleep." Paul observed.  
"M'fine." Harry mumbled sleepily.  
He raised an eyebrow. Harry sounded terribly congested, and he looked like he was about to pass out. "Oh really?" Harry nodded unconvincingly. "I'm not /suggesting/ sleep. I'm ordering it."  
"Paul-"  
"-don't you dare fight me on this, Styles. You are going back to the hotel, and you are getting some rest. We can't afford you being ill."  
"Well, I'm not. I'm fine."  
Paul stared him down, challenging him. Louis sighed, grabbing Harry's arm.  
"Don't be difficult, listen to him. You can't honestly tell me you aren't exhausted. We all are."  
"But the gym-"  
"-will still be there after you get some sleep."  
Harry sighed in defeat. It was obvious they weren't letting up, he might as well humor them. "Okay, fine."  
He sneezed again, and Paul raised an eyebrow. "Bless you."  
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."  
"Mhmm." Paul said, unconvinced.

*

"Take these." Paul said, walking into his room and placing a box of NyQuil tablets and bottle of water on his bedside table. Harry was sitting up in bed, his arms crossed as he stared at Paul stubbornly.  
"I don't need to, because I'm not ill, Paul."  
Paul sighed, walking out of his room.  
Harry's phone rang, and he answered it, glaring at the door.  
"Hello?"  
"You sound just as awful as Paul said." Anne's voice said.  
Harry's jaw dropped. They'd told his mum on him? "I'm fine. Why does everyone think I'm ill?"  
"Because you sound like it." She said. "Just take the medicine and get some sleep, love. Don't make this more difficult than you need to."  
"Goodbye, mum." He said, completely irritated.  
He got out of bed, walking out of the room. "You told my MUM? What are you, five?"  
"Harry, go lie down." Louis sighed.  
"No! I'm fine, I don't get why you guys are being so IRRITATING."  
"We're being irritating?" Paul snapped. "You're the one who's so obviously unwell. Stop whining and running around, making yourself even more ill. Now LIE DOWN, take the damn medicine, and FEEL BETTER."  
His jaw dropped. "Uh...okay."

And with that, he turned on his heel.

Louis watched the young boy retreat back to his room, and then looked at the others, a stunned look on his face. They'd never seen Paul raise his voice at Harry before, the two always got on well.  
"Someone's grumpy." Niall snickered.  
"That's what lack of sleep will do to you." Louis shrugged.  
"He's way too stubborn for his own good." Paul sighed.

Harry laid in bed, scowling at the ceiling. Every few minutes, he'd sneeze, or cough, but he was too stubborn to take the medication he knew would help.

He needed sleep, he decided. Maybe after a good night's rest, he'd be back on his feet.

"Harry." Paul sighed, knocking on the door.  
"What?" He snapped.  
Paul opened the door. "Did you take the medicine?"  
"No..."  
"Take. It." He said, glaring at Harry. Harry sighed in defeat, and sat up, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "Are you alright?"  
"Dizzy." He admitted, and then sneezed again. Harry grabbed the box of NyQuil tablets and bottle of water, taking one of the pills before laying back down. His eyelids grew heavy, and he finally drifted off to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he felt so ill, he didn't think he'd be able to make it out of bed. His nose was become completely blocked, and he was sniffling every couple of minutes. His lungs felt as though a fat man were sitting on them, which left him wheezing every time he inhaled. His throat hurt so badly, it felt as though he had swallowed hot coals, and his head felt like someone was squeezing the crap out of it, along with hitting him repeatedly with a frying pan. The aching in his head made him feel nauseas, and he was four hundred percent certain if he moved, he would be sick. His whole body also felt like he had been dragged through hell and back. 

He hadn’t slept well, his body refusing to let him sleep for more than ten minutes, before he jolted awake. It felt like someone turned up the A/C in his room, and no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in the blankets, he was still shivering uncontrollably. His teeth chattered as he trembled, and he was continuously coughing into his covers. 

Louis and Liam sat at the table while Niall and Zayn slept, both sipping a cup of tea. They heard incessant coughing coming from Harry’s room, and they looked at each other, groaning in unison.

“How bad do you think it is?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Harry continued coughing, and Liam winced. “Do you hear that? Obviously bad.”

Harry groaned in discomfort, flipping on his stomach. His phone rang, and he answered it, holding back a cough.  
“Hello?” He croaked.  
“Harry?” Isla, his girlfriend said in confusion. “You sound awful. Are you sick?”  
“Unfortunately.” He groaned, sneezing into his covers.  
“And you’re admitting it? Wow. You must really be sick.”  
“I feel awful.” He whined.  
"Just hang on, baby." She cooed.  
"There's nothing you can do about it." He sniffled, his eyes sliding shut. "You're in the states, we're in London."  
"Mmhmm." She said distantly. Harry was far too out of it to question her. "I gotta go, see you-I mean feel better."  
"Okay." He nodded sleepily, hanging up the phone. 

His door opened a little while later, and Paul walked in. "Well? How are you feeling?"  
"Absolutely terrible." Harry groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.  
"That's what I thought." He sighed. "There's someone here to see you."  
"Who?" He asked, looking up to see his beautiful girlfriend standing in the doorway, a smile playing on her lips.  
"Hey."  
"What are you doing here?" He asked, sniffling.  
"I was on my way here to visit you anyways." She said, walking over to him. She sat on the edge of his bed, and placed her hand on his forehead. "You have chills?"  
He nodded miserably. "Yeah."  
"I picked up some stuff at the store, should help you feel better." She said, cupping his burning cheek.

And so Isla took care of Harry for the next week and a half, nursing him back to health. A few days after Harry had fully recovered, it was her turn to lie in bed, absolutely miserable.

"I'm so sorry I got you ill." He sighed, placing his hand on her forehead as she coughed.  
She grinned at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Totally worth it."

**Author's Note:**

> How'd you like it? Comments, suggestions?


End file.
